In Which Tony Remembers Why He Hates Steve Rogers
by salty.binch.writes
Summary: "A Hero? Like you? You're a lab experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle." Alternately called: Tony remembers every time his father compared him to Steve Rogers. [Started as a drabble, might add more chapters if I think it could go somewhere]


_I was five the first time He compared me to him._

"Ton- Anthony!" Howard snaps, slamming down his hands on the desk and turning in his chair, as if to bear down on the child. The patter of sneakers behind him and the sound of his toolbox opening enraged him for reasons he couldnt quite explain. His son shouldn't be down here messing with his things.

The youngest Stark freezes at his father's outburstoutburst, fingers half-curled around a screwdriver. "What have I told you about my workshop?"

"I- Uhm. Uhh..." Tony stammers, scrambling for words. His father doesnt give him the chance to find them.

"I've told you that youre not to come down here without _explicit_ permission, Anthony. For all the brains you've got I wish that youd just _use_ them for once in your goddamn life, kid." Howard rubs his face, standing out of his chair toto go over to his son.

"But I was trying to- I-I needed-" The brown eyed child tries to stutter an explanation to attempt to placate Howard, his expression not unlike that of a startled deer, hand retreating from where it had been inside the toolbox.

"But nothing." Once again, Tony is shut down by his father, who picks him up by the armpits to set him on the empty worktable.

In Tony's hand, the one that hadnt been elbow-deep in the toolcase, was a small trinket. A toy of some sort, Howard decides. He gives his son an expectant look, and Anthony oblidges him.

"I-I know you dont like it when I ask you t-to fix things for me...so I was going to try and do it myself, so I wouldnt interrupt your work." He looks at his sneakers, almost bashful.

"Stop stuttering, Tony." Is all he has to say. Howard plucks the device from his hands, inspecting it. it fits in the palm of his hand, so he curls his fist around it and goes to his toolbox.

He comes back with a few tools, pitching them to the floor in an out-of-the-way corner of his workspace and hands Tony his trinket back, lifting him and setting him back on the floor.

"Don't sit there like an idiot, Anthony. You said you wanted to do it yourself. there you go. fix it."

His son blinks at him. Tony isnt quite sure what's happening. His dad hasn't ever done anything like this. Was he serious?

Howard supresses his frustration at the entirely vacant look his son is giving him. He looks like an absloute dumbass and no son of his was dumb. He turns and goea back to his own desk, leaving Tony to his own devices. He'd figure it out, Howard was sure.

Was that...a _sniffle?_ Howard turns to look at his son. Tony had managed to pull apart the device.

Unfortunately, that was _all_ he'd managed to do.

"Anthony. What the hell?" The child freezes, looking from the device in his hands to his father. His eyes were watery. He was frustrated and upset. "Why are you crying, Anthony?"

"I-I can't"

Howard's eyebrows crease. "What do you mean 'you can't'?"

"I can't do it, dad." He repeats quietly.

"Are you dumb or what?" Howard gets to his feet again. "My god. look at this you've- you just made it worse. Anthony you built a _circutboard_ a few weeks ago and now youre pulling this shit?"

Howard lifts Tony, resting the boy on his hip and tossing the device onto his desk. "Whatever. I'll fix it. but this is the last time. I'mgetting you your own tools to do it too so you stay the hell upstairs."

"Fucking...can't even fix a damn handheld piece of..." Howard grumbles as he trudges up the stairs to return Tony to the rest of the house. "You're supposed to be getting smarter, not dumber, Anthony. You know who the last man I made was?"

Tony shakes his head.

Howard answers for him. "Steve Rogers. Captian America. Literally the perfect human. Peak physical condition and ability. Sharp as a needle, and a will like iron. If that man wanted something dine, by god he wa going to get it. Be more like Captian Rogers, Anthony."

Be more like Captian Rogers.

Howard sets Tony on his bed, ruffling his hair. "I'll show you when I fix it. So you know how next time, okay? It's dumb for am engineer to cry over a machine." Tony offers a small smile, and Howard leaves the boy alone.

Howard never was good with kids. He'd be even worse with Anthony. He didnt know that, of course. Neither did Maria.


End file.
